


These Vows We Make

by Nekolatte



Category: RWBY
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, But Very Much An AU, Cultural Sexism, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kings & Queens, RWBY elements, Slow Burn, Sorta High Fantasy, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekolatte/pseuds/Nekolatte
Summary: With a marriage of convenience arranged by her father, uniting Atlas's royal family and their military, Weiss has little say in the path she is made to walk, but it doesn't stop her from dreaming. There were no fairy tales in Atlas, but she prayed her story could be the first.





	1. Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Weiss is 17, but she will not remain that age through the story. If anyone is here expecting underage smut, note the tags. THERE IS ONLY ONE FOR AGE DIFFERENCE. She will be an adult when her relationship with Ironwood grows. I want to try and develop this slowly and organically as possible.
> 
> Non-beta'd. Excuse the mistakes.

It is commonly known that the true purpose of a princess is to be wed off to the suitor with the most beneficial prospects for her family, and while other neighboring kingdoms attempted to romanticize what essentially boiled down to an auction for a young lady's hand in marriage, Atlas did not. There were no gallant tales of knights and princesses locked in towersー of two people finding love against all odds. What there was in their kingdom made ice was strength, resilience, and the bitter truth. And as Weiss sat prim and proper in her lush seat, droves of servants running around her, she realized all of this with a heavy weight in her heart.

There was no one she could ask if this trepidation was normal before a wedding. Her mother was nothing but a vague sensory memory, and her elder sister, despite her age, had never been wed. There was an understanding between her and their fatherー Winter was treated like a man in their kingdom, if only because Weiss could take her place as successor. She could never resent her sister that freedom, no matter how much Weiss wanted it for herself as well. So long as one of them was free, then she would content herself with the circumstances given.

Still, she wished for one of them to be here.

"Your highness, you look so stunning! Such pale skin against white looks positively breathtaking."

Weiss smiled softly at the mirror in front of her while a servant strung glittering gems of white and translucent blue into her hair; she had a vastly different opinion on the matter. She felt lost in white; easily overlooked. But she couldn't deny the dress looked stunning. Crystals were weaved into the white bodice, and they glittered in a million colors when the light hit them just right, all held up by lace so thin it looked like frost. The back was left open to show off the delicate curve of her spineー her gowns for court never looked so beautiful or ethereal. Her hand raised, fingerless gloves stretched up to her elbows like a fine layer of ice, and lightly traced the design on the bodice and how it gave the illusion that she had a proper silhouette. Winter would've looked marvelous in this.

"Don't be nervous, Your Highness. Your husband will be a kind, generous man, I'm sure."

Was it so simple to see her worries on her face? Terrified that the whole court would notice her anxiety, she attempted to school her features into something more placid, when the maid that had spoken previously muttered a quiet apology, bowing forward as low as her back would allow.

"I meant not to worry you, Your Highness. I apologize for talking out of place. I have three daughters, you seeー all wed, and Iー"

"Have said enough, Miss Taylor. Please find out the state of our Highness's shoes."

"Yes, Sir Sieben, of course." Another bow, and a curtsy, had the servant scurrying away as if someone lit a fire to her dress.

"You did not have toー" Weiss started.

Klein raised his hand, dressed in the finest suit a man on his station could be allowed, and silenced his charge without overstepping his title. He approached, and Weiss returned to staring at the mirror, at the butler standing behind her, and watched his hand hover over her bare shoulder, where the servants could not see. The only comfort he could give her, and it was enough to make her chest clench. She was born to the wrong familyー the wrong kingdom. She wanted tactile touch that their people were too proper to give; she felt sinful for wanting it.

"Are you ready, your Highness?"

No. "Yes."

Klein snapped his fingers, and a maid appeared at his side with a veil that seemed to be constructed of snowflakes. It was fixed to her hair, falling down her back like a light snowfall, and not a moment later, the previous maid returned with crystal shoes, fitting her feet perfectly. All of this seemed too delicate for her. It shouldn't be draped on her shoulders; she was no fine princess to be wearing it. A hand was held out to her, and Weiss took it to stand, used the moment to lean her weight towards Klein, who took it without comment. He lead her out of her rooms, away from the fussing maids that took turns to pluck and prod each jewel into a perfect position.

Blood pounded in Weiss's ears, her whole body trembledー was this how prisoners felt, when being sent to the gallows? She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on the heavy weight of skirts around her waist, brushing against her legs. On the tight pinch of the corset, and her long hair pulled up to crown her head in an elegant braid.

Would her husband be nice? Kind? Would he treat her as an equal, or as her status dictates? A million questions ran through her mind of a man she never met, of a man her father decided for her, and one that wrote her letters in precise, beautiful penmanship, though it all sounded so stilted and bland. All she knew was he worked with her sister on the front lines, and thanks to her father's support, they were able to continue pushing forward to claim more land their kingdom needed. Nothing she was remotely interested in, or cared for, but she would have to pretend to, right? Such was a wife's duty.

_Right?_

"Little Snowflake, remember: five in, five out." Klein muttered quietly to her before pulling out his arm from her vice-like hold. She turned to the sound of tapping heels, and found her father, dressed in a muted version of his proper dress, approach her from down the hall. All around her, decorations were made to match the colors of the couple to be wed: white and grey. _Grey._ No vibrancy, no shineー just grey.

"Weiss, we are about to begin. Klein, see to it that the reception hall is ready."

The servant nodded, and went on his way, leaving Weiss alone with the king.

Breathe in five, hold for five. "Father."

Suit cut so precise it hurt just to look, Jacques presented his arm and never once looked in Weiss's directionー she didn't know whether to be thankful or hurt. The fact that those were options caused her grief she couldn't show. Her father had to care for her even just a bit, right? He wouldn't marry her off to someone that would be cruel... someone that would see harm to her?

_...Right?_

Beyond the thick, wooden doors of the grandhall-turned-chapel, a swell of music began to play. It sounded melancholy to Weiss's trained ears, and she stiffened as she took her father's arm. Just as the doors were pulled open by two smartly-dressed servants on the other end, Jacques murmured almost too quiet for Weiss to hear properly before leading her down the white carpet bearing their family crest.

_"You look just like your mother."_

What did that mean? Was it meant to be cruel or kind? Weiss couldn't show the panic swelling in her chest, and could only focus on moving forward. The hall was pristineー constructed of stone so precious it sparkled in the light of the grandiose chandeliers hanging overhead. Banners draped against the high windows, lanterns with flickering flames of gold at every corner to chase the dim and cold away. Every pew was filled, with lords and ladies, their retainers, and even some nobility from neighboring kingdoms.

A Schnee never spared a single expense to show off their wealth, after all.

And at the end of the hall, standing before the altar and the priest, was her husband-to-be. He was impossibly tall, shouldered like a mountain, dressed in a uniform bearing military design. Her heart sank at the sight of grey at his templesー far, far older than she anticipated her betrothed to be. It was a common occurrence for young nobility to marry older, and she had anticipated it. But perhaps it wasn't the age gap that troubled her as much as the void of emotion from his sharp-cut features. All this was an obligation for him too, and he made no attempt to hide it behind a thin veil.

After presenting Weiss, transferring her hand into the palm of this man that was essentially a stranger, Jacques took his seat in the front pew alongside his only son, and gave a curt nod to the man. Her betrothed did not return the gesture, merely turned to Weiss, and in a moment that seemed to last forever, hanging so delicately she feared a single breath would break itー he offered a smile. It was small, almost shy, and gone lest anyone else seeー but it took years off his face, lit up his jem-toned eyes, and now Weiss couldn't look away. A soft squeeze to her hand, dwarfed in his, brought her back to the ceremony, and she didn't know how she got through it all.

Weiss was far too aware of this man. Equal parts terrified and curious; she barely came up to his chestー not even her father ever made her feel this small. But he handled her like glass as he slipped a silver band around her finger, the starched material of his gloves tickling her fingertips. And even as he lifted the veil off her face, he did so with so much care. It gave her hope, so small and warm. She didn't want to be hurt. Not anymore.

There were no fairy tales in Atlas, but Weiss prayed her story could be the first.

"You may now kiss the bride."


	2. Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's SAD. Glad you guys like that, tho. I actually rewrote this chapter, and it's going to stretch out the first arc I have planned. Made me add some new tags too. Wep.
> 
> Thank you all for the humble reception to this (c̶o̶n̶t̶r̶o̶v̶e̶r̶s̶i̶a̶l̶) wonderful rarepair.♡  
> I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far!

The orchestra filled the ballroom with jovial music that no one danced to, everyone preoccupied with gossip and gaining connections from such a meeting of the rich and elite. The food, an extravagance for a land where so little grew in the ground, was spoken highly of and gorged on. Weiss hadn't the stomach for the red, bloodied meat, and continued to idly pick at the chopped vegetables until her plate had been taken without her consent. Now she sat in silence, her father on one side of her, and her husband on the other, the two carrying on a conversation over her head as if she wasn't there. She hardly mindedー her thoughts continued to stray back to that kiss that lawfully tied her to this man, obsessively playing the scene over and over in her mind.

Breath warm on her skin, jaw strong and lips strangely soft as he nearly bent himself in half to reach her. It was odd. Foreign. _Sweet._ The contact had been minimal, chasteー Weiss hadn't the courage to be bold, and Ironwood seemed to be holding himself back. But there had been _something_ in the way he handled her like a delicate trinket, with fingertips grazing down her chin, ghosting over her pulse.

Her ears burnedー Weiss’s first kiss, and it had been in front of a crowd. She wanted to crawl under the table; or, better yet, she wanted to run away to her rooms. But the evening was still young, with no noble in sight seemingly inclined to leave. She caught multiple people, multiple times, looking her way with lecherous sneers, gaze flickering from Ironwoodー _His Grace, the Duke of Hyperion, Knight-General James Ironwood_ ー and back to her. They knew what was in store for her later, and they found an amusement in it that made her uncomfortable in the worst way possible. Weiss could only drag her mind back to the kiss, to focus on that, and wish she had more time and space to deal with all this better.

"Your Highness." A voice like rumbling thunder heard off in the distance nearly had Weiss jumping out of her seat, aborting the motion with her gaze wild and frantic. She hoped no one sawー they'd mock her for it. They'd make a snide remark to her father, and he in turn would be vexed. Disgusted.

Knight-General Ironwood merely looked to her with concern when she finally met his eyes. For one terrifying moment, she was afraid he knewー everything, all of it. That he could read her, various sins etched into her skin as if she was some scroll to be read.

"I asked if you wished for some dessert."

"Ha! You needn’t ask; Weiss always has room for it. I'm actually surprised she was able to fit in that dress from how much she eats." Her father's head was already soaked in wine, and he did not rein in his comments because of it. Weiss looked down to her lap, away from those piercing hues, and smoothed out her trembling fists against her skirts until her fingers splayed across the buttery silk. Her ring caught the light, a large, ostentatious gem that glittered like a star, causing the young royal to clench her hands back again to keep from looking at it.

"Her mother was much the same: a glutton for sweets. If there was something she passed onto her daughters worse than their flighty minds is their love for cake! Thank goodness Weiss grew out of those boorish tales from Vale, though. Princesses taking up swords, wishes made on starsー _talking dragons_ ; all rubbish."

Weiss felt sick.

"Excuse me, I'm not feeling well." She muttered far too quietly, suppressing the urge to scream. _Five in, five out. A lady never raises her voice._

"Over-eager to get to the marriage bed, are we?" On the other side of Jacques, Whitley snickered as if twice his age and already a full-member of high society. He was still young, still naive in so many things, but he mimicked their father in manner and tongue. It didn't matter that he hardly knew what the jokes meant, or what they did to Weiss. All that mattered was the proud clap on the shoulder he received from their father and Jacques’s boisterous laugh. Weiss watched Whitley beam proudly, and somehow couldn't fault him for his ignorance.

It didn't mean she would sit idle by and allow it any longer.

Weiss didn't bother with pleasantries. She pushed out of her seat just as Ironwood was beginning to stand, the scrape of her chair drawing attention to the head table as she nearly raced through the closest door she could find to flee. Her father's words chased after her, speaking to the room about childish excitement and an eagerness to fulfill her wifely duties. Her face burnedー far from the pleasant warmth of beforeー and her stomach churned with what little she ate.

There was something inherently wrong about a father speaking about his child's body so freely, and she wanted to tear out her hair. She wanted to rip off her gown, shred it until it was nothing more than scraps for the rats to build nests out of, and go racing into the perpetual blizzard outside in nothing at all. She wanted to hide in the blinding frost, let it sting and cut her skinー she wanted to scour lines down every inch of flesh with nails until it left her red and grotesque, and no one would want look at the ugly thing she was anymore.

Weiss settled for running to her rooms instead.

The clouds outside were heavy with snow, blocking out any light the setting sun might have provided. Her path was illuminated only by lanterns sparked to life with red crystals, strong and never wavering. They were the sole witnesses to the heavy tears rolling down her face, ruining her painted blush and kohl-darkened lashes. Weiss didn't care; she wanted to crawl under her covers and hide forever. But her doors were locked to her, and no matter how hard she pushed, they refused to open. The heavy wood only swayed a fraction before pulled back into place. She slapped her palm to the surface, using the fresh sting of pain to ground herself, and held back a sob that sounded far too loud in the echoing hall. "It's not fair... It's notー"

"Weiss!"

Gasping in surprise, Weiss turned and stared with owlish wonderment at Ironwood standing a few feet away, looking as awkward as she felt, which did not match his constitution at all. Just as she thought that, Ironwood coughed into his fist and straightened, back into the knight-general he was through most of the wedding and reception. No trace of the other man was left.

" _Your Highness._ "

The lantern light bounced off his silhouette and cast him in shadowー like a giant lurking the halls, and Weiss was cornered with no means to escape. A dozen thoughts raced through her head, none of them pleasant, and just as she thought to beg for forgiveness for disrespecting him in front of the court, he approached. The first step was tentative, the next more deliberate, acting as if Weiss was a skittish doe that needed to be approached cautiously. Maybe she was.

But he never raised a hand against herー never raised his voice. He merely reached into his coat, and at a respectable distance produced a handkerchief for her to take. "Preparations were made for you to stay... _with me._ I did not think they would go so far as to bar you from your rooms, regardless..."

A mantra played in Weiss's head, over and over, as she hesitated to take the square piece of cloth. She wanted him to be kind. She desperately wanted nothing else.

"I will escort you."

An arm was presented to her, and she took it without comment, handkerchief crumpled in her fist. Weiss allowed him to lead her away from her only haven in the castle, back straight and distress hidden away, locked up tight. He was a solid presence beside her, but instead of a strength to lean on, he felt more like an immovable wall slowly closing in on her. Weiss was used to the quiet and stillness of her castle halls, but it somehow seemed more palpable now with company. Lonelier.

"Ah..." Ironwood cleared his throat, never looking Weiss's way, only forward. "Schneeー that is, _Lady Winter_ sends her regards. She... well, she wished she could be here, but one of us had to stay behind, and, well, can't have much of a wedding without a groom."

Weiss didn't replyー she had nothing to say in regards to her sister. The day she left the castle was the last day Weiss saw, or even spoke, to Winter, so the silence stretched on. Which seemed the opposite of what her husband intended.

"That is to say... She entrusted me with a letter to give to you. And a gift. Sheー" He looked down to Weiss, and she looked up, caught in his gaze and that shy smile again. Weiss wanted to study it, take her time to understand it as if he were one of the marble busts they had lining the entrance hall. "She had much to say about you; many stories and praises. She cares for you dearly."

Weiss looked down at her feet, at the shuffle of her heavy skirts. Her arm tightened around Ironwood's as her chest constricted within the bodice. She and Winter never had a terrific relationship, but the best out of the family. If the dispute between their father and his first born hadn't torn them apart, Weiss liked to imagine that they would've been close. Even with the space between them, Weiss had attempted to reach out, but with nothing sent in return, she assumed Winter wanted nothing more to do with Atlas and their family. Winter had escapedー a knight in her own right, by her own means, and Weiss couldn't fault her that. She just hoped Winter was doing well.

"You can ask."

Startled, the young bride looked up, and was again caught by that smile. What right did a man like Ironwood have to give such small, sweet smiles?

"About your sister. About me. You are my princess. My wife. I am at your beck and call."

His handkerchief was twisted in her fingers. Weiss couldn't find her voice, afraid of what it might sound like in the quietness of the hall. It took her two tries, while she looked at anywhere but him, cautious of shadows that could hide her father's loyal servants. "How... How is Winter?"

"As well as anyone can expect from a royal-born suffering through blistering winds and bland food. Though she suffers in silence, assuring us all she is more than capable of withstanding a 'chill', as she puts it. She keeps moral high, keeps our troops on a sure foot with her strength and not-unkind words.” His voice was easy to listen to, Weiss found. Like background music she didn't really need to pay attention to, but the ambiance it provided was lovely all the same. It was only the subject matter that kept her invested, and the proud, almost fatherly, undertones that baited her curiosity.

“She trains and eats alongside them, when before she kept mostly to herself. Our soldiers have taken a liking to her; they see strength in her they wish to replicate in themselves. They have taken to calling her the ‘Lioness of the North’."

Weiss couldn't help her miniscule smile. "She never liked nicknames."

Ironwood chuckled, rough and low, and Weiss felt it in her bones. She suppressed a shiver. "She has given up arguing that lions are not found in such cold climates. Though she still fights and reprimands anyone that dares sing the ballad a wandering bard giftedー ah."

Weiss glanced up to see what kept Ironwood from continuing, and found the door to the guest chambers in front of them. The brief casualness of before bled out of the man, replaced with the stiffness of a military man, and he opened the door for her without removing his arm from her clutches. She doubt she could pull him back out into the hallway with her strength alone, but knowing where he was eased her nerves, if only a bit.

There was already a fire in the hearth, warming the single room, and banishing the darkness to the furthest corners. It was nowhere near as extravagant as her own quarters, furnished only with a large bed, a small sitting area, and animal skin rugs thrown along the stone floors. It was foreign, despite having been in her home the entire time, and no matter how lovely the fireー Weiss did not feel welcomed.

"If you wish, I can leave and allow you a moment alone."

Weiss turned to face this giant man that attempted to appear smaller than he was around her. _And only her_ , now that she knew to look for it. She thought back to the reception, and how easily he conversed with her father and the party at their table. At the guests that approached to congratulate them, never needing Weiss to do more than smile and bow her head in thanks. He commanded attention and knew how to control it, how to direct it like a conductor in charge of a large orchestra. He was already groomed for court, and knew his way around these people. The knight-general was one of them, she reminded herself.

With minimal movement, Weiss pulled her arm away from his and wandered towards the crackling fire. Her father had picked this man out for her, of course he would be every bit the aristocrat that deserved to marry into their royal family. Whether Ironwood did it for money or power was irrelevantー she read into his calm demeanor and soft touches like some flighty maiden eager for warmth in a frozen tundra, and nearly allowed herself to _fantasize_. Peasants married for loveー she could not.

A sigh broke the silence, and steps paced to the heavy doors. They creaked under their own weight as they slid open, loudly groaning in such a still, oppressive atmosphere, but with no resounding hush of a door re-shut, Weiss glanced away from the fire to find Ironwood watching her. She tensed under those pale blue eyes, instinctively straightening her back and lowering her gaze, feeling scrutinizedー appraised. Her hands tightened against her lap, twisting his handkerchief to the point she was sure a stitch snapped.

“Check the drawer next to the bed. Please get some rest, Your Highness.”

And the door clicked shut. No lock bolted, nothing shoved to bar it closed. He just _left_ , without scolding her, hitting her, or forcing himself on her. She should be happy, but tainting the relief like black tar was trepidation. Because there had to be some unseen clauseー a reason to his actions, and she had no way of knowing. She hated it. _Hated it_. Hated the uncertainty and her own desperationー hated that she could still feel the way his arm had felt under her hand, and how she regretted not holding onto him tighter. She hated that she kept thinking back to their shared kiss, and how she could still feel the weight of his lips on hers.

Her heart jumped, and it hurt.

Refusing to shed another tear, loathing how weak and pliant she had been through this entire ordeal, Weiss allowed anger to roll over her like an avalanche. She buried herself in the frigid heat, utilizing it like a shield, and reached up for her veil. She violently ripped it out of her hair without hesitation, listening in satisfaction as the strung gems rained all around her, broken off their thin wires. She hissed at the sting but reveled in the senseless destruction, especially when she looked down to find strands of her snowy hair twisted around the delicate frame of her veil. She tossed it aside without a second thought.

The rest of the gems followed, each pulled and thrownー her glass slippers kicked off towards the nearest wall so they cracked and splintered beyond safe use. She tore at the delicate material of her gloves, and tossed them into the flames. They burned in an instant, leaving a faint smell behind, but Weiss wasn't deterred. She picked up her veil and Ironwood’s handkerchief, prepared to throw both in when she paused.

Though she couldn't be certain of his intentions, it had been as an act of kindness that caused him to offer the handkerchief to her. He could've berated her for acting childishly, but he didn't. She weighed the heavy cloth in her hand, thumb passing over the elaborate embroidery around the corners again and again, feeling it like tiny mountain ranges against her skin. It calmed her enough to reason that keeping it was in her best interest, and she finished her rampage by tossing the veil into the hearth and wandering to the bedside.

Weiss wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget the day, but her gaze strayed and locked on the bedside drawer after she eyed the bed distastefully. Curiosity and stubbornness saw her through her exhaustion, and she ended up with a thick, folded piece of parchment in one hand, and a small, wrapped box in the other.

Taking both to the plush armchair near the fire, Weiss curled up as close to one corner as she could manage, and looked over the letter first. Weiss’s name was inked in beautiful calligraphy, unmistakably Winter’s. Her fingers swept over the solid, sweeping lines, before she checked the wax seal at the back, seeing not the emblem of their royal family, but of their military.

Weiss cracked the seal and read Winter’s formal, elegant proseー her well wishes, condolences for being unable to attend, and reassurance that Ironwood was a proud but respectable man. She admitted ignorance to the engagement and Ironwood’s involvementー admitted to anger and sorrow that Weiss did not write to her and let her know. Not just the engagement, but with Weiss’s life in general. In a steady decline of penmanship, Winter admitted to a deep, bleeding hurt over Weiss ignoring all her previous letters. As the princess read on with growing horror, she noted the discolored blotches that stained the paper and smeared the ink.

_‘When I lost my title, I did not think I would be losing a beloved sister as well.’_

A sharp knock to the door had Weiss shoving the letter behind her back in an adrenaline-induced panic, allowing the visitor entry on pure instinct. Before she could begin to speculate who was behind her door, a familiar head peeked around, and soon Klein was pushing one door aside to soundlessly slip inside. Weiss’s relief was palpable, and she was exhausted again, though no matter how miserable, she always had a smile for the sole being that made castle-life livable.

“Klein, what are you doing here?” Her mind went to the worst case scenario first, frowning. “Did something happen?”

“I should be asking you that, Your Highness.”

The butler set a silver platter on the small table beside Weiss’s chair and regarded her with a small frown, causing her to look away once she realized the mess she had made of herself and hadn't bothered to fix. Ruddy cheeks, red eyes, torn clothes and hair a complete bird’s nest; the conclusion he must have come to, seeing her like that.

Klein only muttered a quiet apology for staring, and resumed his work, pulling away the cover of the plate to reveal a softly steaming fish fillet topped with a light yellow sauce, white fluffy rice complimenting the main courseー a traded product from overseas. And off to the side was a large slice of apple cake, enough to serve twoー definitely not the white fluffy cake served at the reception. It was warm as well, dripping honey and topped with fruit, forcing a hungry growl from her stomach. Weiss could feel her mouth water, and she swallowed.

“I made your favorite, and snuck out dessert while the kitchen maids weren't looking.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Klein’s eye, and Weiss fondly smiled, her heart swelling. “Go on, your Highness. Eat.”

Subtly shoving the letter into the gap behind her seat, Weiss straightened in place to properly eat, breaking off a piece of fish and scooping a small chunk of sticky rice before she thought to say “You didn't have to go through all this trouble.”

“I’m afraid I had to, Your Highness.” Confusion colored Weiss’s features, but Klein continued with theatrical exasperation, and Weiss bit on her lip to keep from laughing. “His Grace approached me in hysterics, dutifully fretting over his young bride and her poor eating habits. He begged I bring you something that you were sure to eat, and to not leave your side until the plates were licked clean.”

“He did _not_.” The start of a giggle bubbled out, but Weiss quickly stamped it out. She looked back to her meal, and tried to imagine Ironwood _fretting_ , as Klein had said, but couldn't. This was still so new. She brought the full fork to her mouth, and sighed contently through her nose. “Thank you, Klein.”

“You need not thank me, Your Highness. While His Grace did not beg, he did ask me to do this. And it’s never any trouble at all to serve you.”

Weiss smiled, full and real. She ate another forkful, and caught Klein bowing from the corner of her eye. With quiet permission, he excused himself to allow her to enjoy her meal in peace, and made his way to the door. Weiss called out to him before he could leave, thinking back to the letter crumpled and out of sight. She hesitated, fingers gripping her fork tightly. It felt like a weapon in her hand.

“Thー I mean. _Winter_. Has sheー she’s never sent me any correspondence since she left for the war, has she? Not evenー even for today?”

A shadow passed over Klein’s eyes, dark and dreadful and gone the next instant, but shocking enough that Weiss still held her breath, waiting and wondering just what in Remnant she saw. The butler shook his head, looking displeased on Weiss’s behalf. “I’m afraid not, Your Highness. Perhaps she is just too busy to write back? Though I’m sure she appreciates every letter you’ve sent her so far.”

“Iー” To keep her hands from trembling, Weiss returned her attention back to her food, stirring it about more than portioning it to eat. “I really hope so.”

“Enjoy your meal, Your Highness.” Klein bowed once more before closing the door behind himself, leaving Weiss to her thoughts and a crackling fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Strudel

Weiss toyed with a tiny dog sculpture beneath the dining table, her thumb passing over the gem eyes that sparkled in a kaleidoscope of colors under different angles of light. Its tiny snout was open as if in mid-bark, with a tuft of fur against its proud chest, standing on all four legs and a short, bushy tail at its end. Made of a semi-translucent stone Weiss couldn't name, white patterns swirled across its body in riveting strokesー she took to mentally naming it Strudel, and it was the best engagement present she received among the priceless jewels, rich robes, splendid furs, and curiosities brought in from overseas.

Late into the previous night, Weiss had read Winter’s letter again and again, trying to make sense of what she was interpreting between the lines. Someone had been intercepting the sisters’ letters to each otherー theories as to who and for what means escaped Weiss. The only thing she felt confident guessing at was that someone wanted a rift to grow between the two of them. But that gave way to more questions than answers.

Guilt settled unpleasantly in Weiss’s stomach at how easily she had accept Winter’s cold, callous shoulder, when the eldest sister had been a pillar of strength and comfort after their mother’s passing. She thought back on her childhood, back when she chased after Winter's skirts and mimicked her elegant graceー far too eager to be a young lady that she hadn't realized the torment Winter went through as the eldest child. Back when the world was new and excitingー when the world felt safer, and their father hadn’t been obsessed with expanding his empire. The only way Weiss knew how to make up for her discourteous behavior, and to thank her sister for such a sweet gift, was to get to the bottom of this. She already had a primary suspect in mind, who seemed to be aware he was being thought of with contempt.

“So, how was the wedding night?”

Weiss inhaled her soup in surprise, head bowing to both muffle her choking coughs against her napkin and to hide her boiling face. She didn't dare to look up, not even to indirectly reprimand her father. She didn't want to see Ironwood’s reactionー not when she had found herself waking up in bed,  _ alone _ , tucked under the covers with no indication that the other half of the bed had been used. She hadn't even remembered falling asleep! But the dishes Klein had brought her were gone, Winter’s gift and letter on top of the bedside drawer, along with her mother’s wedding ring and Ironwood’s handkerchief folded neatly beside it. 

Who else could've done that  _ but _ her new husband? She tried convincing herself it had been one of the maids but to no avail. Weiss was a light sleeper; she doubted they, or even Klein, could’ve moved her from the armchair to the bed without waking her. It meant she had slept while someone else had moved about the room, vulnerable while a possible danger lurked nearby. The whole ordeal was uncomfortable enough as it was without outside parties inquiring after the state of herー or, rather,  _ their _ ー bed.

A shudder ran through Weiss as she got her coughing mostly under control.

“Your Majesty, is that talk really appropriate for breakfast?” Ironwood inquired with a flat tone.

Weiss wanted crawl under the table; her temptation skyrocketed when Whitley reached over to smack her back in some vain attempt to help her cough. She swatted him away, sneering at his smirking face from under the fall of her curled hair, and straightened back up to take a sip from her drink.

“I suppose you’ll want to continue our discussion, then, James?”

“If it's not too much trouble.”

From over the rim of her glass, Weiss watched the exchange without seeming eager for the results. If Ironwood could get her father distracted, she could snoop through his thingsー for confirmation of her theory, or even the letters themselves. But Jacques looked bored, as if the answer the knight-general gave was the wrong one. He ate from his plate, but Ironwood didn't move, waiting still. Her father flung out an irritated gesture.

“Wouldn’t you rather spend your first day of blissful marriage with your wife?”

In an instant, she was under the scrutiny of all three men present, though it wasn't her brother or father that made her nervous. The thought of being left alone with the knight-generalー to entertain him and keep him companyー caused her heart to flutter unpleasantly. She didn't want to think about last night; she didn't want to think about the reception and the ceremony. She didn't want to think about how  _ large _ his presence felt beside her, and the naive notion that maybe this marriage could be an easy affair to get through. She didn't want to think of what it meant, henceforth, to be a wife.

Weiss quickly thought of a lie, and responded smoothly. “I was going to show the ladies of Asteria and Pallas around the castle. It's been some time since nobility from the southern coast has come to visit.”

As if already losing interest in the conversation at the word  _ ladies _ , Jacques accepted the excuse, turned to Ironwood, and that was the end of it. They spoke in short, clipped terminology as they finished breakfastー most of it lost on Weiss. This aspect of politics was not something she had been taught, as her place was among the socialites. She was to arrange balls and banquets, hold correspondence with lesser nobles to keep them appeased and feeling important, and she was meant to present herself with finery and graceー for if the queen of the kingdom could waste time on such trivialities, then the war was costing Atlas nothing, but  _ gaining  _ them everything instead _. _

Weiss didn't understand it, but knew better than to question it. Her mother had done it; her mother's mother and so on, far back the Schnee line. Who was she to break tradition?

Once breakfast was cleared, her father and Ironwood excused themselves from the table, the latter with a proper bow and “Your Highnesses” before following after Jacques. Weiss stayed where she was, listening to their echoing steps past the dining hall. Five short of reaching the hallway that turned toward the King’s study, meaning they turned too early. They were heading out to the castle grounds. Weiss sprung to her feet in a hurry, causing Whitley to bark a laugh at her side.

She had forgotten he was still there.

“I don't know what you're plotting, Weiss, but you're far too obvious about it.” Whitley leaned back into his chair, hands folded on his lap, looking at Weiss as if she was the younger, inexperienced sibling. “You’re lucky Father’s too preoccupied to notice.”

“You mean he doesn't care enough  _ to _ notice.” Weiss shoved her chair into place with more force than necessary, causing her brother to jump in surprise at the sound. Lording that petty victory over him, she briskly turned and headed for the doors, already plotting a means to get the spare key for her father’s study.

Whitley still had one last thing to say before she left, however. “ _ He’s not going to remain disinterested forever. _ There's a reason he married you off to his closest advisor and commander of his armiesー even I can see that.”

What could Whitley possible know? He was still a child, not having been formally presented to court, yet he spoke as if he already knew the subtle trade of secrets and favors that went on among the nobles. She pushed it from her mind, lest she be distracted from her task. 

Which, ultimately, had lead to nothing. Klein had intercepted her on the way, granting her access to the king’s study, but also a chaperone. She perused the high, long shelves there, as if searching for a light read while the butler hustled about, setting rights to the room. He was the only one aside from her father with a key, being the only one allowed inside to keep it clean. Subtle as she tried to be, there was nothing incriminating out in the open for her to investigate. She’ll have to come back under different circumstances, maybe when most of the castle was asleep. She hoped tonight they would allow her access back into her rooms. While the maids had brought her a change of clothes in the morning, and helped her through her usual routine, being away from her rooms felt disorienting.

“Your Highness, is something troubling you?”

Startled from her thoughts, Weiss shut the book she wasn't reading to turn to Klein. Schooling her features into something impassive, she slotted the book back into its proper place, and moved down the bookshelf.

“Nothing at all. I justー” Her fingers poised over a slim tome, toying with its hard spine. Though Klein was loyal to her father, he's shown kindness to her time and again. A servant merely following orders wouldn't go out of their way to make her favorite foods when she wasn't well, or offer an encouraging smile when no one was looking. Perhaps she could trust him. “What is it like, being married?”

But, in the end, he was still her father’s serf. His kindness was conditional.

“I have never been, Your Highness, so I can't say.” Only until Weiss lifted her head to curiously regard him did Klein continue. He stood perfect and poised, head head lower as was his placeー raised like a nobel but treated lesser. “My priorities have been, and always will be, the Schnee household. No one must come before my King and his house.”

Before she could formulate a reply, Klein continued with a bow.

“If Your Highness has found a book, I ask that we depart. Perhaps you can read in the eastern drawing room.” Klein lifted his head, moustached lip curved with a smile. “The sun is out todayー you should enjoy it with some tea and tarts.”

 

`◇ーーーーー

 

It seemed the kept secret of the drawing room’s fantastic view over the capital city of Atlas was told to all, as Weiss found herself conversing with various nobles that regurgitated the same words they gave her at the reception. But without the knight-general here to accept the thanks in her stead, she was forced to speak, and it was how she found herself drawn into a discussion between an Earl and Viscountess, the latter attempting to engage without overstepping. Weiss stopped following the conversation once it turned to gossip, but polite etiquette dictated that she couldn't leave until the parties finished speaking.

But like fresh blood tossed onto snow, scavengers neared out of sheer curiosity, and jumped at the chance to input their own scandalous tales of their incompetent help and the simplicity of their lesser-born countrymen. Beyond the frosted glass, dark clouds swallowed the sun once more, and brought with it another torrent of snow. Lunch was a simple affair that was served to those unwilling to part to the dining room, though Weiss had no appetite as her stomach tied in tighter knots the longer she stayed in this company. Time was dragging like an eternity that no one but her could feel, and she lamented the wasted afternoon of natural light. Her book was a forgotten prop on her lap, and she swallowed down a sigh.

Weiss wanted to say something. She wanted to throw her book down and scream. She wanted to point at every Lord and Lady present, and remind them that it was one faithful circumstance that separated them from the common folk, and how easily they could be reduced to shunned outcasts if their titles were stripped away. But Weiss couldn't. She was to sit pretty and quiet, frozen like a sculpture. There had always been a fire in her, threatening to thaw her carefully crafted demeanor and destroy her world of ice, and time again she had to dim it down to a flickering little candle-flame.

A hand pressed onto her shoulder, firm but gentle, yet Weiss tensed anyways. She glanced backー up the tall, broad length of impeccable, militant white, to Ironwood’s calm facade as he looked down on the gossiping crowd. One by one they hushed and presented their greetings, rising to bow or curtsy. Ironwood spared them only a glance, before all his attention was on Weiss. She shrunk under it, daring not to even breathe, until the knight-general took back his hand.

“You have all kept my wife entertained for the entirely of the afternoonー I would like to spend time with her as well, if you can be asked to part with her.”

The Lords and Ladies tripped over themselves to give permission and well wishes, praising aspects of Weiss that she never once showed or had an inclination toward. An avid speaker, delightful tone and scholarly diction. Charming, pleasant, funny, cleverー the list went on, and being left alone with Ironwood no longer seemed like the worst possible alternative to end her day. She excused herself from the group with an incline of the head, clutching her book like a shield, and followed the knight-general out the door. 

Neither spoke as they took their time to wander the halls, the castle expansive enough that it would take some time to circle back again. Weiss looked at everything but the presence beside her, until a few more turns of uninterrupted silence had Ironwood clearing his throat. Weiss was obligated to turn.

“May I ask what you're reading?”

As if forgetting she was still carrying the thing, Weiss wordlessly handed the book over, and clasped both hands in front of her skirts once she was relieved of it. She watched Ironwood inspect the cover, gloved hands treating it like a delicate commodity, before turning it over to browse its interior.

“Iー I didn't. Read it, that is. I had planned to, but I was pulled into conversation, and it seemed rude to open it and start reading when…” Weiss watched him read with no regard for propriety. She had been so terrified of being rude, and he did it without a single care. Shut out the world once something of better interest caught his eye, and she was reduced to background noise. It was something she was used to around her father, but it hurt coming from a stranger.

Bowing her head, Weiss watched her steps, belatedly wondering if the maids had found her cracked glass slippers in the dark corners of Ironwood’s borrowed room. They really had been gorgeous, but horrendously unnecessary. Like the veil. The dress. She didn't know where it was now, after the maids had carted it away.

“When what?”

The knight-general wasn't looking at her, but addressing her all the same. It wasn't until he seemingly found a natural break in his reading did he finally close the cover and put his attention on Weiss. Attention she wasn't certain how to handle. His sincerity looked genuine, but she was still fixated on his blatant disregard for mannersー one that he could get away with ignoring, and not her. She knew, without saying a word aloud, that she was being ridiculous, and taking this encounter out of proportion. Everything stemming from how  _ unfair _ this all was, especially from her perspective.

The men around her were allowed to do as they pleased, but she was pushed, shoved, bullied and forced to walk a straight, narrow path.

“Whenー when the conversation was still going.”

Something passed over the knight-general’s face, something sour, but gone before Weiss could study it. In its place was a friendly enough expression, though one Weiss felt reluctant to trust after what she saw. 

“Well, you’re free of them now. I haven't had a chance to visit the library here in the capital. Perhaps you can guide me there?”

It was posed as a question, but sounded very much like a command. Weiss saw no other option but to guide the knight-general, responding to innocent inquiries about her daily life in the castle. He offered information of his own home when conversation lulled, painting a picture of solid, dark stone, and functional furnishings. A fortress built for use rather than showー a place for everyone, and nothing wasted.

Inside the library, quiet scholars drifted in and out of bookshelves, keeping to themselves and their studies, and otherwise ignored new company as if not there. As a child, Weiss had thought them ghostsー dressed in all white. Even now, she had some fear of them and didn't dare step further inside the well-lit room. A low whistle from Ironwood made her remember why she was here, however.

“I expected nothing less from the royal family, but this is still an impressive collection.” He walked inside very much like it was his own and due for a proper inspection.

Weiss, however, stayed put. She teetered, uncertain, before drawing a step back. “I haveー” Another step. “I just rememberedー” And another, until she was out in the hall. “I shall not bother you any longer, Knー” 

How was she meant to address him, now that they were married? ‘Knight-General’ was too formal, yet ‘James’ felt far too intimate, far too soonー he was her senior, and using his given name seemed like a slur. With no solution in mind, Weiss curtsied and fled at a forcefully sedated pace. “I will see you at dinner.”


	4. Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(:3」∠)_  
> I really hope y'all are liking this and it's not just one person spamming the guest kudos.

Weiss did her best to avoid Ironwood thereafter. With her rooms finally open to her, she had a place to escape toー except if someone was particularly interested in finding her, it wasn't a very good hiding spot. Luckily, the castle had been her playground since birth, and she knew all the nooks and crannies she could use to seclude herself into. It wasn't a permanent solution, but a decent one for the time being until Ironwood returned to Hyperion. To keep up appearances, she was always present for breakfast and dinner with her family, spent a few moments afterward to converse with the table, and made her excuses to leave. Many of the nobles overstayed their welcome after the wedding, and she had a ready enough excuse in them.

They were a chore to put up with when she actually had to entertain them, but through careful wading of unnecessary dialogue, she learned things about her kingdom that she hadn't known before. Trade with the other kingdoms of Remnant was slowing to a crawl, some ports going so far as to bar it completely. There was an increase of recruitment into the army, with the ban of faunus joining having been lifted. There were more guards on the streets, and less fighting among the commoners. Audiences with the dukes and duchesses of Atlas were postponed until further notice.

Now that she thought of it, they had been the first to leave after the wedding. It was common practice to stay a few days after a summons from the king, yet they left at the earliest opportunity. 

Weiss didn't know enough of the circumstances to decide if all this, together, should be worrisome, and she really had no one to ask.  _ Maybe _ . If she earned the knight-general’s trust, would he betray the king’s confidence for her?

A better question was: did she  _ want _ to know?

Weiss mulled it over the entire day. And the nextー and the next one after. No one seemed suspicious of her convenient absences, and Ironwood was always calm and polite when she saw him at the dining table, responding to her small talk as if it was the most natural thing to do. Perhaps this was all he wanted from their marriage: an extra title and ties to her family. She had hoped, but like all the things in her life: that hope shattered soon enough.

Caught between two lords debating the literary prowess of Oberst, Weiss had nowhere to run when she caught sight of Ironwood making his way to her from down a long stretch of hall.

She kept forgetting how imposing he was, and not just in stature. Long legs like his should've made him gangly, but he walked with an odd gracefulnessー never hurrying, never expending more effort than needed, as if the world moved for  _ him _ and no one else. Even if she tried to run, he would still catch up with her somehow, even at his calm pace.

Once he was near, though there was nothing to be seen on his face, she could  _ feel _ his angerー something that was cold enough to scald. The men present seemed unaware of it, however. They all exchanged pleasantries, seemingly surprised that an important man like Ironwood would remember their names, and were afterwards enamored when he joined the conversation and took the lead of the discussion. Weiss, on the other hand, couldn't hear a single word as her blood pounded loudly in her ears, heart racing fast and quickー a cold sweat collecting in her palms and nape. When he spoke her name, she replied to it on instinct, watching him smile though there was nothing warm there.

A gloved hand was held out to her.

She must have hesitated too long, because he stepped forward, forcing the other two to move aside or be shoved, and crowded her against the window to block her from their view. A dozen awful scenarios flashed through her mind, and a dozen more when his large palms framed either side of her head. She had a vivid image of him cracking her skull open with no expended effort, and violently flinched when he shifted his weight. But he hadn't been preparing to fling her out the windowー he only brought her closer, where his white uniform was the only thing she could see, and his spiced scent was all she could smell, something familiar in it that she couldn't name.

So caught up in the mystery, she was not prepared for the soft pressure pressed to the top of her head, and even less prepared for the caress of lips against her ear.

“We need to talk. Now smile like you’re not a rabbit caught in a trap.”

So often practiced, the demure smile appeared instantlyー angelic but utterly vacant, just how she was taught to be. Her arm wound through Ironwood’s without her prompting, and she moved on legs she didn't feel. Weiss didn't know where she was being led, nor what her fate would be at the end, only that her calm composure was sure to shatter the very second they were in a more private space.

That turned out to be an empty parlor with very little furnishingsー one of few rooms in the castle with a modicum of restraint and modesty. Weiss wandered further inside, took a seat on the simply-designed couch, and stared straight ahead. She could feel a sharp sting somewhere in the back of her throat, the onset of tears in the back of her eyes, and a terrible frost spreading through her chest. She balled her hands into fists to keep them from trembling, pulling from reserves to stay as impassive as she could through this. She hoped it was just a lectureー the horror and humiliation of it would follow her for weeks, but she preferred that over anything else.

Nothing came, however. She waited, and waited, and still she was only met with silence. Her eyes squeezed shut, fear turning into a pressure against her lungs that made it hard to breathe. She focused on each inhale and exhale, trying to make them sound normalー not rushed or short, but calm and even.

“Weiss.”

Tone barely a whisper, but Weiss reacted poorly to it nonetheless, her heart hammering awayー instincts telling her to leave. To run and hide and never  _ ever _ come out. But she stayed put, struggled to keep her fraying pieces together, even as her features twisted in pain from holding onto such jagged glass.

“Weiss, I’m not going to hurt you.”

A sob broke free before she could stop it, her palm flying over her mouth to muffle the avalanche that she just set off. Her chest constricted tightly in her bodice from every heavy, shuddering breath, disrupting her mantra of apologies as her head shook violently. She didn't mean to. She didn't mean to cry. She didn't mean to interrupt him or show such weakness. She was tryingー she was  _ trying so hardー _

“Weiss, come back.” 

His voice was so close that her eyes opened with a start, breath held through the shudders. She found him bent on one knee, concern drawing his brows together and turning down his mouth. His eyes flickered every which way, looking her over, hands outstretched as if prepared to act, though that only caused her to draw back, wishing the couch would allow her to pass through it to put more space between them.

Ironwood seemed to notice what she wanted, and stood with a slight sway. He moved away and sat on the seat across from her, putting a table between them, as his hands clasped together and posture turned dreadfulー elbows on his knees and his spine curved into a slouch. He didn't look at her; his fierce gaze was on the only door leading in, and Weiss took that opportunity to put herself back together. He waited until her purposeful actions dwindled to idle fidgeting, and spoke with a calm, quiet voice.

“I can't do this.”

Before Weiss could make a mess of that single statement, he continued.

“Your Highnessー you must be aware your father not only approved, but suggested, this union. And I accepted because it would not only benefit the people under my command and protection, but all of Atlas. I want you to  _ understand that I know you are unhappy with the circumstances,  _ but I need you to pretend you’re not.” 

Ironwood stood, and Weiss jumped in place, her heart trying to choke her, but he just paced behind his chair, as if the more furniture between them, the more safe she'd feel. Weiss couldn't deny it was effective.

“Your father only agreed to help me if I…  _ controlled _ you as your husband.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, the words forced out of him through clenched teeth. “But how can I possibly stomach the thought when you’re  _ afraid of me. _ ”

Weiss sat in silence and only watched, the man more animated here than he had been at any other point in their acquaintance. He paced, stopped, grabbed his chair and paced again, only stopping his monologue for a breath.

“When you run from me and hide from me, and tremble when I’m near; when you're an inexperienced  _ child _ and I’m more than  _ twice your age. _ I haven't a doubt in my mind that I am the last man you would ever want to be tied to, but I cannot continue this farce without your cooperation. I  _ need _ your help; your father is growing more suspicious by the day, and there is only so much I can do. He won't allow me to leave until he is convinced that I am holding my end of the bargain, and I  _ need _ to get back to Hyperion. I don't have time to dawdle about like some Lady with too much time on her handsー”

His head turned to her, looking apologetic. Weiss didn't know if it was for the comment or the implication or both, but he continued with a shake of the head.

“This situation isn't ideal, but we need to make it work. You are more than free to take on lovers of your own preference so long as they are discrete and aware that you will remain married to me. Perhaps once this all quiets down,” and here he huffed a bout of laughter that held no humor, stopping to glance down at nothing, “or when I die, our union can be severed with minimal repercussion on both our statuses, and you will be free to do as you like. But for now I ask this, and only this. I will never force upon you anything you aren't comfortable with; I will never demand you act like my wife when we’re alone. Just a few days spent together in public; a few nights sharing a room. A conversation that doesn't abruptly stop mid-sentence, and if you’re comfortable with it, allow me to dote on you as a husband should.”

When Weiss said nothing, too focused on the delicate cuffs of her gown, Ironwood sighed, and she felt him move closer. She tried not to tense this time, but all this was too much too soonー she hadn't even properly caught her breath, and her father’s knight-general admitted to some conspiracy to  _ control her _ . His presence still made her wary, but as he knelt down on one knee at her feet once more, she could only see a knight dedicated to his cause. Stiff and proud, not entirely honest, but never wishing harm on others.

“ _ Please _ .”

She should say no; she should make a scene, and tell him exactly what was on her mind and how  _ horrible _ all this is. This marriage wasn't even political, which she could’ve come to accept sooner or laterー it was a leash, and he wouldn't even tell her why! But he sounded as desperate as she felt, and, most importantly, her father would punish them both for straying from the given script.

So Weiss nodded instead of answering, hearing his relieved sigh from being so close. Ironwood never broke eye-contact as he held out his hand to her, radiating patience until Weiss fitted her palm into his. His fingers curled around hers, brought them closer to himselfー her mother’s ring was on display as he took the time to study it, seemingly lost in the precious stone. Though he spoke to her, his tone was for someone else.

“...I made a vow to your mother, when she was still with us. All the royal knights did.” The last part sounded like an afterthought, but Weiss was entranced by what she was watching. She had always believed the higher in the monarchy one was, the more withdrawn they became and the less emotions they displayed, but there was something raw and fragile in Ironwood’s features here and now. His armor wasn't impenetrable, and she was seeing the cracks. “I don't believe she will castigate me for revoking it to pass one onto you.”

Ironwood took a breath, and Weiss watched his shoulders rise and fall with the motion. Though unease lingered, it began to vanish bit by bit, balmed over by his voice and submissive stance.

“My blade, my loyalty, my life and my heaー my honor are yours. My princess, my wife, my future queen. Never will I allow you to come to harm; never will you fear while I guard over you. I will be your sword and shield; I will be your strength. May you never want while I am here to provide. May you never feel loneliness while I am here at your side. When you call, I will answer. When you search for me, I will be the first you see. Your life before mine; your happiness before my pride.”

Lips brushed over the ring, and the scene felt far more intimate than their wedding kiss. There was a flutter in her stomach, and a warmth across her cheeks, and despite it all, her hope renewed.

_ Let him be kind. _

Ironwood lifted his head, and Weiss started when his clear blue eyes caught hers; there was something warm in them that wasn't there before. “This is usually the part where you accept.”

Weiss’s blush was fierce, vivid against her pale skin, and she silently fumed under his hardly-innocent chuckle. “I didn'tー I didn't  _ know. _ I have neverー what do Iー what… what did my mother do? What did she say to you?” She hadn't thought that they knew each other, certainly never having seen him around the castle, even when the late queen was on her last few days. Now Weiss had questions; ones that she would keep to herself until she could figure out how much of this play was genuine.

“Your Highness,” his free hand softly pressed over hers, and as his head tiltedー wayward strands of black hair breaking free to sweep across his forehead. Weiss could see where such a sharp jaw and stern brow would've made him a  _ devastatingly  _ handsome young man. “You are not your mother, nor should you ever try to be. Do what you feel is right, and always remember: you are your own person, and not a mirror image of someone else.”

What she felt was rightー Weiss hardly did anything she felt, never mind if it was right or wrong. She did what she was told to do, and what was expected of her. It was difficult to allow it, but when she did, Weiss found herself leaning forward. Before her nerves could get the best of her, Weiss cupped his cheek with her uncaptured hand, his skin deceptively smooth against her palm, and she used the leverage to guide his head down a bit so she could close the space between them. For a moment, she hesitated, daring not to breathe, and with more confidence than she felt, Weiss pressed a kiss to his forehead where the worry lines were most prominent. 

“I’m trusting you.”


	5. Stage Center

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly getting the ball rolling.

They had spoken about their arrangement well into the nightー what was allowed, what wasn't, and what they had to give or put up with to make their farce work. It seemed they both shared a singular stance on their marriage bed: it would be left well enough alone and never shared unless under dire circumstances. Which played in Weiss’s favor; it meant she wouldn't be forced to bear a son for a man she was uneasy around.

Around the late hour, Weiss had reluctantly agreed to share his room for the sake of convenience and to begin the illusion. Gradual steps that would not look out of place as Weiss and Ironwood grew to find some semblance of calm around one another. It took Weiss the most effort of the two to smother her instinctive reactions to chaste kisses on the head and a hand on the small of her backー to not flinch and pull away every time Ironwood so much as looked at her. A natural escalation, it seemed, because her father took the effort to pay closer attention to them both as the days dragged on, and the straggling nobles whispered more fervently among themselves. Ironwood observed as much as Weiss took to showing him around the castle’s treasured gardens with her arm wound through his. The plots of crystal-like flowers and saplings glistened under the glow of blue-fire torches situated around the grounds, strong and resistant against the light snowfall and mild winds.

“What now?” Weiss found herself asking under wispy, white breath, her free hand reaching out to trace gloved fingertips beneath an opaque leaf. When she was young, she had always imagined they were made of ice, easily melted under a curious touch, and feared going near them lest they all wilt in her presence.

“We have to be more cautious than ever.”

With a delicacy she was becoming familiar with, Ironwood lifted her chin with the barest of direction and pressure, twisting his large body to block her from the view of the castle. He bent forward to finalize the illusion, and spoke only for her to hear. “You didn't flinch this time; well done.”

No longer did she blush horribly at the charade of kissing Ironwood, or when his hand engulfed hers completely whenever it was held. But her stomach always seemed to flutter whenever he spoke kind words to her, because she couldn't find the lie in them. He wasn't playing a part when he gave her innocent compliments or praise, or whenever he whispered casual observations of his surrounding to her as if they were secrets she was allowed to be privy to, and it made her feel special.

A dangerous thought, when all this was meant to be an act. She kept her disquiet to herself, and showed him the luminescent flowers further into the gardens. He spoke of himself very infrequently, and she was finding that he had certain topics he attempted to avoid entirelyー her mother being one. But whenever talk of Hyperion came around again, he was always eager to speak of his dukedom’s accomplishments, of the strength of his army and the culture they maintained. It sounded horribly mundane in comparison to the extravagance of the central kingdom, but the enthusiasm in which Ironwood boasted was endearing all on its own.

“I can only hope we will make it back in time for the Dunacht festival, or it will be the first I have ever missed.”

Weiss's wretched heart leap at the mere implication of ‘we’ー of being taken from her home and given another. Somewhere with more freedom, away from her father and the court and their suffocating standards. She said nothing, in case it be only a slip of the tongue, and led them to an alcove created by crystal trees shrouding a stone bench. She untangled her arm from his to sit, and he followed soon afterー pressed right to her side, sharing his warmth and protecting her from the chilled winds.

It would be easy to lean into him; to take his hand and twine their fingers. To pretend there was something more here, but this was all they would ever be. Weiss needed to learn to make her peace with it and be thankful it wasn't something worse.

“Where did I lose you?”

His voice so close to her ear that it gave her a fright, making Weiss jump up and away, clutching her fur coat tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the attack. She had all but a moment of panic before she realized what happened, with Ironwood looking as harmless as he could possibly make himself, which made her blush all the more hotter.

“I apologize; I wasn't paying attention.” Quick to reprimand herself internally, Weiss bowed her head in hopes he wouldn't see the bright color of her face.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Ironwood shake his head, massive shoulders rising and falling with a silent sigh. “I've been controlling the conversation for too long, haven't I? Lady Winter insists I ramble.”

“What? No!” Her outburst shocked them both, though Weiss was infinitely more embarrassed over it. She was quick to sit properly, self-conscious of every awkward angle of her body. “I… actually like hearing you talk.”

The burst of laughter that followed was unexpected, forcing Weiss out of her stiff posture to glance over to the man attempting to hold his humor in. He hid only his smile behind a gloved hand, though she could see a corner of it peeking over his thumb. It didn't seem malicious, though with no real experience to compare it to, Weiss felt momentarily lost in the exchange, unable to find her footing.

“I will consider it a compliment.”

A grumble turned to frost in the air, Weiss turning toward Ironwood more to properly view him. “Wait a minuteー”

“An odd one, surely, but the first I have been bestowed upon by my lovely wife.”

The pointed words made her chest ache, realizing this had all been a play for a wandering maid or a spying noble, and Weiss did her best to not let the disappoint show. Instead, she fell back on her knowledge of romance novels read in the dark of night, under the incandescent light of Dust crystals and out of sight from her various tutors. He teased, so she was meant to tease back.

“The best I can do for a man that has yet to pay me a single one.” The playful smile on her features felt forced, and for a moment she feared she may have played the entire scenario wrong when the silence stretched and Ironwood’s amusement vanished. About to speak, unknowing how she planned on filling the silence but knowing she had to, Ironwood beat Weiss to it with a tentative sort of murmur, casting a glance to the gardens.

“I haven't.” It wasn't a question, but Weiss still felt compelled to answer. Again, before Weiss could respond, he spoke first. “Would you care to join me today? I am visiting the knight academy, and I would enjoy more of your company.”

Thinking someone was still spying on them, Weiss saw no polite way to refuse, and gave an enthusiastic nod followed by a tiny smile. “I would be thrilled.”

The vacant look to his eyes ebbed away, and he seemed to calm. Ironwood reached over, his large palm scooping up her hand, and gently placed his other one over it. His fingers squeezed. “You do me an honor, Princess.”


End file.
